Conference Weekend

Sherlock and John are invited to join Lestrade and the team on a residential conference weekend in the country… revealing many things about the duo that people don't usually see.

Friday

"This is going to be hell." Sherlock moaned as they walked up the expansive driveway to the manor house they would call home for the next few days.

"You wanted to come to this conference… don't tell me you've changed your mind? It took 4 hours to get here!" John sounded exasperated. It was hot and he really didn't enjoy public transport for any length of time.

"Not the conference. I can't wait to hear what these 'professors' have to say… new ideas about forensic science they boast! Better be good!"

He turned and saw his companion's confused look.

"John I'm talking about having to spend the weekend with … that lot!" he gestured towards a group from Scotland Yard who were seated outside having a beer. "It's going to be unbearable listening to their pathetic twaddle."

"I'm sure you won't have to socialise with them much, hopefully you'll get a room on your own and you can disappear when it all gets too much." John suggested helpfully.

"I need a cigarette." The detective sighed mournfully.

John decided to ignore him and instead walked up to the reception to sign in.

A delightful woman offered to show them to their accommodation and they followed her gratefully, John couldn't wait to set his bag down and collapse on to the bed for a snooze. He looked at Sherlock laden down with two large bags… what had he packed anyway?!

The pair traipsed through the corridors after the receptionist until they walked in to a large lounge with a fire place, comfy sofas and lots of books. The woman stopped to point out the door on the far side. John thanked her and opened the door for his friend.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me." Sherlock surveyed the large dormitory of bunk beds with disgust. "Seriously? We are sleeping in here? With half the police force?"

"I'm sure it won't be that bad." John placated him but inside he knew this was not going to go down well. He moved to a bunk up against the wall near the door and threw his bag on to the top bed.

Sherlock sighed and placed his belongings on the bottom bunk. "I won't be sleeping in here." He stated simply, before walking back out in to the Lounge and throwing himself in to an armchair by a bookcase.

"This is gonna be great!" John muttered sarcastically to himself as he jumped down off the bed. He felt the need to sit outside for a bit and avoid Sherlock's bad mood at the sleeping arrangements, so off he wandered with his newspaper to find a seat in the sun.

The temperature outside dropped as evening approached and the police officers made their way inside for dinner. John joined Lestrade and Donovan at their table in the dining hall and proceeded to wolf down his lasagne at speed.

"Hungry?" Sally asked cheekily.

"Haven't had chance to eat much recently." John told them between mouthfuls "We hardly stop when there's a case on."

"Where is Sherlock anyway?" Greg asked.

"Oh he rarely eats… digestion slows his brain down apparently. Besides it's a Friday… he doesn't usually eat on Fridays." John answered, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

"Ooo kay…" Sally raised her eyebrows at Greg across the table.

Wondering why he even felt bemused anymore at Sherlock's behaviour, Greg started up a conversation about the lectures on the next day and the three of them chatted amiably for a while.

"This is really nice… do you think they'll let me have seconds?" John asked.

"Here." A fresh portion of lasagne appeared to John's right and he looked up to find Sherlock holding it.

"Cheers." The doctor took the plate and tucked in to his second helping.

Sherlock sat in the seat opposite and leaned forwards, resting his chin on to his clasped hands.

"Not eating Sherlock?" Greg asked.

"I don't need to."

Greg and Sally smiled at each other.

"John." The detective's piercing blue eyes bore in to his friend's across the table. "You brought some with you didn't you?"

"Nope." He started tucking in to his lasagne again.

"John, please…"

"No Sherlock, I really didn't bring any with me. Cold turkey is cold turkey."

"I just need one cigarette John, just one! You don't understand… I'm bored and surrounded by morons… I need a cigarette!" Sherlock's voice had risen to a shout, drawing the attention of the whole dining hall.

"Can't help you I'm afraid." John replied calmly.

Sherlock snatched the lasagne off his annoying friend and took it back to the serving hatch before stalking out.

"He is unbelievable!" Sally exclaimed. "How can you let him treat you like that?"

"Oh you get used to it." John said quietly, hoping people would stop staring at him soon. "I'm sure Greg understands what it feels like to go through nicotine withdrawal."

"Well it does affect you badly I have to admit, but I'm not sure I'd be that rude to anyone because of it." Greg stared at John amazed that he was defending the arrogant detective.

"It's just his way. He acts like a child when he doesn't get what he wants." John saw their frowning faces peering at him. "It's fine, honestly! He gets like that regularly when he wants a cigarette. Just ignore him."

"Well I think he's out of order." Sally stated before getting back to her dinner.

John decided he'd had enough of this conversation. He got up to go sit in the lounge and found Sherlock was nowhere to be seen, so the tired doctor grabbed a book off the shelf and settled in to an armchair by the fire.